The Sacrifice
by The Wuzzy
Summary: The gates of heaven are closing, but with minutes to go Dean's still fighting. All the angels are being recalled, permanently, and Cas has one final choice to make. Dean/Castiel


**Literally could not get this idea out of my head as an 8x23 headcanon, following on from the events of 8x19. I swear these boys are gonna kill me some day.**

**oOoOoOo**

He's dropped two angels, and he knows he'll kill every last one they send his way before the gates close. He's never felt so powerful, and he knows it's fury, all of it.

The last suited bastard broke something in his shoulder, but the ache translates as nothing more than low buzz against the heady rush of adrenaline. His teeth are bared in a snarl as he slams home the blade, and then throws his arm over his eyes to black out the screaming glare.

He'll kill more. They may have accepted a celestial lock down as the price for closing hell, but it hasn't stopped them trying on their dirty work down to the last damn second they can tread the sorry earth. He'll kill more, but godammit, there's so little time.

As the hollow vessel falls he turns his eyes to her, and she holds up a hand to stop the final two angels in their advance. He swears they almost flinch, and he's not surprised. This is the gaze that looked upon the monsters of purgatory and made them flee. Not that any of those monsters ever got far.

Far as he's concerned, these angels are monsters too.

_Five more minutes and they're gone._

Dean's hands tighten round the blade, blood pounding in his ears. He has to focus.

'Let him go.'

The words, deceptively calm, hold the promise of all the blood and agony he could ever mete out, and it's a promise that he'll tear it all slowly from her stolen body. He doesn't feel his own desperation, because it's feeding the blazing _wrath_ which he swears must be flaming from his pores.

Is this what angels feel like when they're all stuffed up with divine rage?

No. There's nothing holy about this emotion.

'I'm not the one who needs to let him go,' says Naomi, her expression almost concerned, motherly. 'You see, I'm not sure you understand, Dean. He chose _us._'

Time is draining away, but the colour doesn't drain from his face at those words. Not this time.

'Couldn't make him kill me though, could you? So you delegated the job to these poor suckers.' He gestures at the blackened burn of wings on the floor. 'Well, looks like Plan B was a bust.'

_No time. There's no more time._ He raises his blade, tip glinting towards her. 'He didn't want to play your game. Now let him go.'

'Dean,' she shakes her head, and the pity in her voice makes his fingers itch to bury the blade in her chest. 'You need to stop fighting. Castiel is of the host, and belongs only to the Lord's command. No-one can ever _'have'_ him.'

She holds his gaze as she steps over the nearest body, and her footprints are smudges in the ashen imprints of feathers. 'Dean, what made you think that you were special?'

_Everything. Nothing._

'Let him go, before I sink this between your ribs.'

The room's starting to burn with a white, unearthly light now, but though the air is throbbing Dean's feet stay firm.

Naomi sighs, indulgently, and his blood pounds louder as Cas slips into existence between them.

'Heaven's gates are closing.' She has to raise her voice over the slow build of humming. 'Tell him your choice, Castiel.'

He won't believe this is the end – he can't – but as he scans Cas' face he's still automatically committing every feature to memory. The slightly parted curve of his lip, the small crease between his brows.

'I can't ask you this, Cas,' Dean says, and he is so far beyond desperation now. 'I just need to know. I just need to hear your choice.'

Cas' eyes lock onto his and then Dean wants, insanely, to laugh, because they aren't empty. Not any more.

'Dean,' he says softly, 'You know my choice.'

Cas sinks a hand into his own chest.

'_No,_' Naomi cries out, and Dean cries out too but then he's turning away, arms thrown over his face at the new burst of radiance amongst the blinding light growing around and Cas is _screaming_ _–_

- and Dean doesn't know how but he feels it, he feels the rip of agony as Cas claws away the foundations of his being and his essence pools in his hands, and Dean's passing out, falling -

The pain ends, and Cas remains, lying crumpled on the ground, but it isn't over. The light around them builds to a thrumming crescendo and Dean thinks his lungs are going to burst, and he barely hears the horror and bitter, bitter disappointment in Naomi's scream as she's torn away from this reality against the pealing in his ears.

Then everything goes white blank, and cuts out.

'_Cas.'_

In the second he can move again, Dean's arms are around him, raising him up and holding him.

'Don't you dare leave me now, Cas, don't you frigging dare.' His voice is breaking and there's a ringing in his head. It's not just the aftershock of heaven, which has warm blood trickling from his eardrums. It's the ice solid fear gripping his body.

'Don't make me say it, you bastard. Don't make me say it too late for -'

Those blue eyes snap open as Cas sucks in a first shuddering breath, and then Dean's manoeuvring him back into a sitting position, trembling hands supporting his shoulders. He's shaking, coughing, eyes wide with the shock of his new found humanity, and it's the most beautiful thing Dean's ever seen.

'That hurt significantly more than expected,' Cas says, and it's little more than a broken whisper.

Dean tries to choke something out, but then his hand is wrapped in a fistful of Cas' hair and he's wrenching him forward into a kiss. It's bruised and bloody and it's five years late, but Dean doesn't want to think. When Cas starts to kiss him back Dean _can't_ think.

He simply feels, and what he feels is Cas_._

It's not a bad feeling either.

**oOoOo**

**Short I know, but if you reviewed it'd make my life. **


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